


Mundane Magics

by tinyinkspots



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 14:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyinkspots/pseuds/tinyinkspots
Summary: A collection of drabbles exploring Julian's relationship with the Apprentice.





	1. Working Late

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’m well and truly Julian Trash™ and a sucker for quiet moments
> 
> Prompt fill for Kiss Prompts 13. Kiss on the Ear/49. Before Bed Kiss

She follows the glow of the candlelight, rubbing sleep from her eyes. One hand holds closed the soft white shirt, too big for her, yet her favorite thing to wear. Her feet make quiet padding sounds across the floor.

He’s sitting in his study, hunched over the papers from his latest research. His hair glints in the flickering light, his skin painted a warm hue. She rests for a moment, her hip against the door frame, drinking in the sight of him. When she moves forward, a floorboard creaks—a rude end to the silence.

Julian tenses, until he sees that it’s her. A sleepy smile crosses her face as her hands settle on his shoulders. He has the sense to look sheepish.

“I didn’t wake you, did I, darling?”

Her fingers slide down his skin, clasping near his collarbones as she leans over and presses a kiss to his ear. His hand rests on her arm, and he leans into her warmth. “It’s late. You need sleep.” The words are short and slurred in her somnolent state, and Julian huffs a laugh against her skin. “Come to bed.”

“How could I refuse an offer like that?” As he stands and stoops to blow out the candle, she sees the darkness under his eyes, a testament to too many sleepless nights. Her fingers wrap around his wrist—or try to—and she tugs him after her.

“Eager, are we? Oh ho ho.” There’s no heat behind his words —they’re much too exhausted for that—but it draws color on her cheeks, just the same. 

She snorts in reply as they walk down the hall in the darkness, the path now long-familiar. Without a word, she releases his wrist and crawls back under the covers. She was gone long enough that the sheets are cool against her skin, and she shivers. 

He slides in on the other side, and ever observant, he sees. “Here, love, let me warm you.” A yawn overtakes him. “I recall you asking me to, on a number of occasions.”

Her eyes are already sliding closed, and she doesn’t move. “Julian, it’s too late for banter. Just come here.”

A soft chuckle in the darkness, then, “It’s never too late for witty banter.” Warm lips press gently against hers, as he settles next to her, arms drawing her in. “What would I do without you, hmm?” 

Her voice is barely a whisper. “Never sleep. Now, hush.”

She wasn’t commanding, not really, but his eyes close, just the same. She’s right, of course. He’s never slept as well in his life, as he does with her next to him. Research can wait for the morning.


	2. Only a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for 33. Kiss in a Dream

She’s floating, weightless. Her limbs are heavy and light at the same time, and dimly she knows that she is dreaming. 

But instead of some abstract dreamscape conjured by her brain, she is in her bedroom at the palace. The silks around the bed cast warm shadows against the fabrics, lanterns still lit and bright. She shifts, her legs tangled, and she wiggles to free them—

She’s not alone.

The thought should fill her with panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, she’s suffused with happiness, incredibly pleased. She stills, before rolling over, stretching languidly against him, a soft hum in her throat. 

He stirs, gripping the pillow tighter even as he opens an eye. And without warning, like is common in so many dreams, suddenly he is kissing her, pressing her firmly into the mattress, fingers tangling in hair, teeth nipping at lips and necks and shoulders—

And in the next instant she is surging upwards violently, towards him, towards his warmth—

Towards conscienceness. 

She comes awake with a shudder, eyes flying open even as her fingers ghost over her lips. Almost unbidden, she reaches out with her other hand to the empty bed. Why should it be warm, when it’s only her?

The specter of the doctor looms large in her mind and in her room, as she remembers those stolen kisses at Mazelinka’s and in the theater and at the docks. For a moment, she lies still, nearly paralyzed with the foreign feelings of loss and longing, nearly aching for something she never really had.

She finds that she wishes her life was the dream, rather than this strange and real state of awakening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice mix of Prompts 43. Kiss of Life/60. Throwing Their Arms Around the Other Person, Holding Them Close While They Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this, I had Hozier's "Like Real People Do" on repeat.

There is salt in the air, and sun on her skin, and joy in her heart. She is alive. They are alive.

And they are together. A smile splits her face.

But she doesn’t feel like being sentimental today. Those times have passed, and those times will come—blessedly, they will come. Today she wants to savor the present. With him.

She squeezes his hand, before bursting away in an uncharacteristic surge of girlish laughter. A group of seagulls down the beach startle into flight. She sprints down to the water’s edge, hardly stopping to fling away her shoes and roll up her pants before she splashes in up to her ankles. Eyes slide closed as she inhales the scent of the sea, that heady mix of brine and decay and far-off places. 

Julian chuckles as he walks towards her; she’d recognize that voice anywhere, now, even with that quality of complete and total happiness that is so new, and so perfect. Shadows fall across her eyelids as he stands beside her, and she can hear the amusement in his voice. “I always thought the sea would suit you, darling.” Wonder creeps into his voice, and he’s quieter as he says, “And I never imagined that I would see you like this. So carefree, so happy, so…”

“Loved?” She cracks open one eye, turning to look slyly at him.

His cheeks color, and she’s sure it’s not from the sun. But he faces her fully, a soft look on his face, filled with that same quiet wonder. “Yes, loved.”

The temptation to lean in and kiss him is nearly overwhelming; but she is carefree, and they have all the time in the world, and so she swoops down to splash him with water.

He sputters, too slow to move out of the path of the spray. “Oh ho, darling! Feisty today, aren’t we?” In record time he shucks off his outer layers until he’s down to shirt and trousers, and he’s chasing after her in the waves. Water slaps against her back, taking her breath and soaking through her thin shirt. She whirls, and runs towards him, catching him off-guard. His eyes widen as she flies at him, arms fastening around his neck and shoulders, lips sealing against his.

He grunts, knocked off balance, hands at her back and hip as they fall backwards into the surf. Bubbles rush from her nose as she laughs under water, Julian’s hands pulling her up and to him, breaking the surface with a gasp. Her fingers rest over his heart and in his hair, as he kisses her again; his heart thunders beneath her palm, strong and steady and alive alive alive—

As she melts against him, held secure against the rocking of the waves —these blue-green and normal, unlike the impossible purples of the Magician’s Realm— she smiles against his lips. Revels in the salty tang of their kiss, the way their clothes cling to their bodies and drag in the water, the way his hands are warm as they hold her closer and tighter. 

There is no desperation here; no, it’s a celebration of unreserved, ebullient life.


	4. Rowdy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for 25. Kiss Inspired by a Song/53. Against a Wall Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t know what this is, honestly. so many prompts combined into…this.
> 
> listened to "Going" by Tow'rs on repeat for this one; i'm a sucker for romantic moments and songs in mostly minor keys.

Malak’s cries echo behind them, a warning. It almost sounds like he’s laughing. She doesn’t stop running, Julian’s hand tight in hers.

“That bastard. He’s mocking us.” She glances at him sideways, seeing that smirk stretching Julian’s lips. His eye slides to meet hers, and she mirrors his grin, hearing the exasperated affection in his voice. 

“For good reason. Picking that fight probably wasn’t our best move.” The brawl had gotten rowdier than usual, with them quickly becoming outnumbered. A few punches and a few bottles had been thrown, before Julian’s dramatic insult had escalated things a bit too far—

And then she’d pulled him out of the back door, laughing even as her heart pounded run run run.

Their feet slap on the cobblestones, Malak’s cries seeming farther and farther behind them. Without warning, Julian cuts a corner, spinning her into him, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush. He pulls her along, down more side streets in dizzying turns, until he halts in front of a door. His door.

Head still slightly spinning, she listens for any footsteps as Julian fits the key into the lock. “I’ve never come that way before.” 

He laughs as he pulls her inside after him, quick to press her against the door as it clicks shut. His hands settle on her hips, lips on her jaw. “Flirting with danger and you is absolutely intoxicating.” She rolls her eyes as he kisses her neck, fingers curling into his hair in that way she knows he likes.

“Masochist.” She feels him smile against her flushed skin, before he nips lightly. His fingertips —when did he take off his gloves?— find the skin of her waist, drawing teasing circles, and she gasps. He shifts, trying to get closer to her, at the same time her fingers in his hair feel something wet. “What—?” She moves forward to get a better look, fighting against the distraction of his hands. “Julian…”

He pauses, coming up for air, eye dark as he gazes at her. Her fingers are still in his hair, and she takes them away, finding them red. Light flares to life in her palm, concern in her eyes even as she laughs softly. “What am I going to do with you?” A thin line of blood mars his temple, and his cheekbone is darkening into a marvelous purple, underneath his equally marvelous blush.

He grabs her magicked hand, even as she moves to heal the wound, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “I can think of a number of things you could do. I wouldn’t stop you.” He hisses as her fingers probe the cut gently, and her heart pounds harder as memories rush into her head.

“Hush, you.” He makes a soft sound at her command, low in his throat, and she bites her lip in response. “I need to concentrate.” She doesn’t really, not for healing something so small, but it buys her some time to pull air into her lungs. She still feels lightheaded, being with him like this. 

He continues to watch her, hungrily, and she can feel his spark of magic stir against hers. In a moment the cut is healed, the bruise faded into nothing. “There.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and the glow from her hand dissipates. Even in the darkness she can see his expression. She licks her lips, his eye following the movement.

“Kiss me.” The words are out, a soft command; he obeys eagerly, his hands hard on her hips. While she certainly can’t always condone his brawling tendencies, on nights like this she certainly does appreciate Julian’s penchant for getting rowdy.


	5. Just a Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fingers press against clammy skin, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A fever, he thinks. It’s just a fever. The plague is gone, and she just has a fever. He certainly knows what to do for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> classic self-indulgent sick! fic, feat. dr. devorak. very minor spoilers for recent chapters.

It is a busy day in the shop.Charmwork and magic-infused remedies are the main orders of the day, running to the market to restock supply stores before rushing back for a few afternoon card readings. Asra is away again, and so the tasks fall to her, as always. Today, she doesn’t mind.

She closes the door behind the last client, the reading fading from her mind as a wave of exhaustion sweeps over her.She wipes her brow before turning back to the herbs on the counter, waiting to be hung to dry, or crushed into powders.The afternoon passes like that, quietly yet quickly, the sounds of her humming and the mortar-and-pestel’s rasping keeping the time.She only pauses when there’s a knock on the door, followed by a tall shadow stepping over the threshold.

A soft smile adorns her lips as she sees Julian removing his coat.“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He comes to lean against the counter, that devilishly handsome smile on his own face. “My dear, we could spend the rest of the evening fawning over each other.” He reaches across the space between them, swiping his thumb against her cheek. She’s got some herbed powder on her face. “Let me help you, and then we’ll stop by Mazelinka’s for dinner. I told her we’d come and visit. Is that alright?”

“Of course.I have some questions I’d like to ask her.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re making me nervous, darling. You’ll make sure to ask about the misfortunate things she’s seen me do, I’m sure?”

She laughs, and flicks some powder at him, making herself sneeze.“Not everything has to be about you, Julian.”She remembers a time when those words would tear and wound, instead of tease; she’s glad they’ve come so far now that they only serve to draw a smile and long-suffering sigh from him.“I just want to ask her about some of the remedies she uses.She has some potent things.”He mutters something about the women in his life colluding against him, as she bumps around under the counter, pulling jars out and filling them with the herbs. 

It’s as she’s carrying an old, unwashed jar to the sink that she stumbles, slamming the glass against the edge of the sink.There’s a whiny grating noise as the glass fractures in her hand, biting deep with its sharp edges.The scent of wet frankincense mixes with the iron tang of blood.She must make some noise herself, because Julian appears behind her, alarm on his face and in his voice.“Here, here, my darling, let me help you.Are you alright?”The pieces are placed in the sink, blood dripping warmly from her palm and fingers as he hastily retrieves some bandages from the cupboard.She hisses lightly as he pulls a smaller shard from the wound, not savoring the pain as he would. 

The exhaustion she’s felt all day washes over her again, and she sways where she stands.Julian secures her body against his as he finishes cleaning the cut, firmly wrapping it.“Losing our stomach, are we?Long day?”He’s teasing her, she knows, but suddenly her eyes are sliding closed and she goes limp against him as she faints.He’s quick to catch her, panicking slightly as he sees the pallor of her skin.Unbidden, he’s haunted by the nightmares of her, sick with the plague, he unable to save her.

Fighting through that terrible haze, he removes his glove, still cradling her against him as he crouches. Fingers press against clammy skin, and he breathes a sigh of relief. _A fever_ , he thinks. _It’s just a fever._ The plague is gone, and she just has a fever. He certainly knows what to do for this. He sweeps her fully into his arms, carrying her upstairs to the bed.

* * *

Warm light filters in through her eyelids as she stirs; but wherever, whatever, the warmth is, she doesn’t feel any. She’s freezing.

“Here, my love.Drink some of this.It’ll help to keep some fluids in you.”It’s Julian, and he’s holding a small bowl to her lips.He’s built a fire in the little hearth, the shadows dancing across his sharp features.His eyes are soft, concern for her mixed with that steady confidence he’s come to have with his patients.She feels his hand gently curling around the back of her neck, helping her to sit up. His skin feels deliciously warm against hers, and she trembles, suddenly deciding that the slightly steaming liquid warmth would feel equally delicious sliding down her throat, warming her from within.

Her eyes close again as she drinks the savory broth, trembling again as it settles warmly in her stomach.Julian continues to murmur encouragements to her, and quickly she feels herself sliding again into sleep.Another shiver wracks her, and she weakly clutches his wrist as he moves away.“Cold.I’m cold.Stay, please?”

He gives a bemused smile.“Soon enough you’ll be burning up, pushing me away.”

She feels her lips pull into a pout.“But I’m cold now.” 

It draws a laugh out of Julian, and he stands, removing his jacket and boots.“Who am I to refuse?”She shifts, making room for him beside her.He slips inside the cocoon of blankets, and she wriggles closer, eager for more warmth.Obliging her neediness, he gathers her close, her nose pressing against his collar bone as she curls into him.With a sigh, she closes her eyes again.“That’s better, much better.Thank you.”Her lips press a weak kiss to his skin.“I’ll feel better in the morning, with you taking such good care of me.”She drops back into sleep, Julian murmuring softly into her hair.

* * *

It’s another day abed before her fever breaks, marked by times of demanding Julian’s warmth, and pushing him away as she sweats. He’s steady through it all, there with soup or tea or a damp cloth, encouraging her to recover and rest. As she finally crests the wave of the sick stupor, her heart swells with pride: he is a good physician, for all that he says about himself. 

She pushes herself up against the pillows.There’s a soft and steady throbbing in her hand, and she remembers cutting herself on the broken jar.She looks down, seeing clean bandages.She threads a thin tendril of magic into the wound, easing the throbbing and helping the healing; she’ll do more later, but the tiredness threatens to drag her under again.Settling against the pillows, she gazes at the ceiling, listening to the soft pops of the logs in the fire, and Julian’s footfalls as he comes up the stairs.

He emerges a moment later, his jacket on despite the heat in the room, a tray in his hands. She sits up, smiling at him.

“How are you feeling?”

She takes the cup of liquid he hands her, breathing in the curling steam.Peppermint.“Much better.Thank you, Julian, for everything.”

He raises a hand to her forehead, before checking the pulse at her neck. His eyes meet her as he smiles gently. “Just doing my job, darling.”

Over the rim of the cup, she murmurs, “I love you.” 

His eyes widen; and then that look of quiet wonder steals into his eyes, the hardness within him softening a bit more.“And I you.So much.”The fingers at her pulse move to the back of her neck, and he draws her in, foreheads touching.He shudders slightly against her, and she knows that he’s thinking of those shared nightmares and memories, of being powerless to save her and others.But she’s here now, it was just a fever, and their time now is no longer borrowed. 

She cups his cheek and counts the breaths between them, inhaling his smell as it mingles with the peppermint.She cannot imagine a better curative than this moment with him.


	6. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. "I've missed you" Kiss

The road is familiar under her feet, and as they crest the hill, she catches sight of Vesuvia.The sea glitters in the distance under the hot sun.A smile breaks across her face, and a weight seems to lift from her shoulders, one she hadn’t realized she carried.

Asra catches her grin as he walks beside her.“It’s always good to be home, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” _Especially since it feels more like home_ , she thinks. _Vesuvia_ _is my home._ As they walk down the hill they talk amicably, discussing the finer points of the spell she’s begun to study, and the peculiar knack of keeping up a personal gateway, and other such things—but the closer they get to the city gates, the more her mind starts to wander.Her heart speeds up as she thinks of being with _him_ again, soon.Her true home, now.

By the time they return to the shop, dusk is approaching.They munch on a loaf of pumpkin bread, each, and once Asra and Faust are settled in for the evening, she says her goodbyes and heads for the southern quarter.

The alleys with their twisting ways are now almost as familiar as the lines on her hands, and in no time she’s at Julian’s door.A piece of paper is wedged into the seam of the it, and in the fading light she’s just _barely_ able to decipher his messy scrawl:

_Not sure when you’ll be home.Just wanted to let you know that the last few nights have been late.I’ll come home as soon as I can._ _In the meantime, make yourself at home._ She squints, and can make out where he tried to scratch out the words _I mean, it essentially is your home, now, that is._ Smiling, she pictures Julian in his embarrassment, and keeps reading. _I’ve missed you._ — _J_

Tucking the note in her pocket, she removes her key from her satchel. The door is heavy and secure beneath her hand, squeaking lightly as she pushes it open. Dying light filters in through the kitchen window, and she inhales the clean scent that she’s come to associate with Julian. Candles come alight as she passes them, small licks of magic coaxing them to life. 

She heads into the bathing chamber—Julian is nothing if not committed to hygiene— and fills the tub there with more magic.When it’s warm enough, she shucks out of her clothing.She adds a few drops of eucalyptus oil into the water, swirling it around and heating it until steam rises steadily.When it’s almost too hot to bear, she steps into the tub and sinks down with a satisfied sigh.

She sits there for a while, letting the dust from the road soak away.Her hair floats around her in long strands, and for a few more breaths she is content to just _be_ , savoring the feel of living a life unhurried.

But soon enough her fingertips begin to wrinkle, and the candles in the bath are burning down, casting strange shadows through the steam.She washes her hair meticulously, before gathering its mass into a knot.When she finishes scrubbing, she lets the water drain away, and turns to rubbing the citrus lotion Nadia knows she loves into her skin.Straightening, she spies one of Julian’s shirts folded on the basin, and her lips curl up in a smile. 

She’s found that the sight of her wearing his shirt spurs him into being particularly…rowdy. 

As she pulls the fabric over her head, she hears the front door creak open, followed by Julian singing a line of a song.It tapers off as he sees the loaf of bread she’s left in the kitchen, and suddenly his footsteps quicken down the hallway.“Lydia?”

“I’m in here.”There’s no need for her to raise her voice, he’s already so close.Her stomach flips over, and she can’t keep from trembling in anticipation.The next moment his frame is filling the doorway, and she has one foot out of the tub, and his hands are at her waist as he helps her the rest of the way out.His nose is in her hair, her face against his chest, as they breathe each other in and out.

His fingers, still in those heavy gloves, tilt her chin up; she’s struck, for a moment, by just how striking the gray of his eyes are, and at the warmth within them.Then he covers her lips with his own, pulling away just enough to murmur, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” She stretches onto her toes, twining her hands behind his neck; he pulls her flush against him, hands gripping her hips. “It’s good to be home.”

He sighs against her in another kiss.“It’s not the same without you here, you know.Maybe now I’ll be able to get some sleep.”

She presses a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before moving to his neck.“Sleep?I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”

She hears that now-familiar note enter his voice, his fingers flexing against her as he toys with the hem of her shirt.“You vixen.You’re right, I don’t need sleep.”He deftly picks her up and moves down the hall.“I need to welcome you home properly.”

Her stomach does that delicious flip again, as she fastens her lips to his neck.No matter where she goes, near or far or into a different realm, she’ll always be happy to return home.

To him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff, a bit of spice, a bit of everything nice~
> 
> okay, but really, i'm a sucker for slow domestic scenes and then suddenly passion. also, i couldn't really picture writing this without using my apprentice, Lydia.


	7. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s as she’s cradling his head in her lap that she realizes something is wrong. The angle of his neck is too sharp, the bruising too deep. He’s deathly pale, and she shoots out a breath of magic into his body, looking for life. Blood trickles from his nose and mouth, and she can’t understand it, this wasn’t part of the plan, it wasn’t—
> 
> He should be healing, but he’s not.

The crowd is caught up in the bloodlust, bodies pressing thick in the town square.Malak cries from a nearby roof, and she angrily thinks that the sun has no right to shine like it does, not today.Portia and Mazelinka are warm, comforting presences at her side, but not even they can stop the storm raging within her.

The gallows loom large in front of them, occupied by three figures.Nadia is resplendent as always, even with an executioner lurking in her shadow.But her eyes are only for Julian, as he stands up tall and straight on the wood planking, eye raking over the crowd before stopping on her.Even from the distance she can see the soft smile he gives her, gone in an instant as Nadia finishes her proclamation.Julian steps into the spotlight with ease, dramatic and passionate to the end, denouncing the Count one last time.

And then her fingernails are biting into her palms, and her heart nearly stops beating as the executioner slips the noose up and over Julian’s neck.She chokes out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as Julian stoops slightly, ever the gentleman, so quick to help.The crowd’s screams and yells reach fever-pitch as the executioner grasps the lever, and Julian meets her eyes again, refusing to look away or flinch from his fate.

She mouths the words she didn’t have the courage to say, wasn’t sure she was ready to say, and then the ground drops out from underneath them both as he falls, his neck jerking to the side. 

Everything around her fades to silent shades of black and white as he sways slightly—once, twice, three times. And then she is running, running, running, desperate to get to him, to see the life surge into his eyes once more as he comes back—

But the square might as well be a chasm for how long it takes her to cross it.Heedless of those still lingering in the aftermath, she sweeps up to the gallows as they remove his body, grabbing for him so she can be the first one he sees when he opens his eyes, those beautiful dove-gray eyes.

It’s as she’s cradling his head in her lap that she realizes something is wrong.The angle of his neck is too sharp, the bruising too deep.He’s deathly pale, and she shoots out a breath of magic into his body, looking for life.Blood trickles from his nose and mouth, and she can’t understand it, this wasn’t part of the plan, it _wasn’t—_

_He should be healing, but he’s not._

She begins to rock him back and forth, tears slipping freely down her face.Again and again she plunges her magic into him, fingers clinging as she tries to remember the healing spells Asra taught her. The sky goes dark, and she is alone with him, suddenly and painfully alone, with the hopes of their future together raining to the ground around her in shredded ribbons.

Something deep within her rips, tears open, and there is a howling void where her soul used to be. Wind screams around her, formless sounds shaping themselves into the words “ _no, come back, i love you, come back, no no no_ ” echoing around her. She realizes that the screaming is coming from her, an inhuman sound, and she can’t stop shaking. She can’t. She’ll shake herself apart, still holding him in her arms, and they’ll have to bury two bodies today—

“Lydia!”

The word, foreign amidst the chaos, has the effect of a mirror shattering.She is able to surface to reality, clawing her way back to life with a shuddering gasp, eyes flying open.Dark sky is replaced by dark wall panels; the smell of death turns into the mingling scents of citrus and clean linens and _him._ Feeling returns in the same moment as sound, and she feels the firm hold of arms around her as she’s rocked gently, steadily, to the sound of her name.

She gasps again, turning into him, feeling the wetness on her cheeks against the warmth of his skin.Her fingers dig into him, scrabbling to pull him closer, to feel the rush of blood through his veins and the pull of air in his lungs.His arms tighten around her, as she struggles to reconcile that this Julian, very much alive, is reality, that they are living their future _right now_ , and that the nightmare is nothing but a fiction.

The roaring in her ears drops away as her sobbing quietens, and she realizes that Julian has been saying her name this whole time. His voice sounds hoarse, and as he pulls back to look at her, she sees tear tracks dimly lining his skin. She cups his cheek, more tears falling from her eyes even as she tries to dry his. “You were gone.” Her voice is hoarse, too, and she wonders how long she was screaming. “It was the day you were hanged, and then you—you fell, and—“ her hands go around her own neck, the mania reluctant to leave her—“your neck, it was all wrong, and you _wouldn’t wake up_ —“

He presses her into his shoulder, holding tight as another wave overtakes her.Even though she knows now that he is real, it’s like all of the grief still needs to be let out, all of the fear of what could have happened, and so they stay like that, her pressed into him while he strokes her hair and murmurs reassurances. 

Eventually she stills, exhaustion replacing tears in the cavern that has opened inside of her.Julian takes her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze in the candlelight.“I am right here, Lydia.I am safe, and I am not going anywhere.” 

She whispers something, too soft for him to catch.His eyebrows draw in, eyes shadowing again. 

“I didn’t get to say I love you.”

His face softens, and he continues to hold her gaze.“You get to say it now.That was a nightmare, Lydia.That’s all it was—“She cuts him off with a kiss, surging against him fiercely, needing to feel this part of him, now.He responds, lips moving firmly against her, curling his frame around her, anchoring her to him.

When they break for air, she rests her forehead against his, eyes nearly crossed for the looking at him.His fingers are tangled in her hair.Both are out of breath, and she revels in this breathlessness, in the sound of air passing between his lips.“I love you, Julian.”

He closes his eyes, fingers flexing against her scalp.“I love you too.”Spoken softly, it is a promise, and a prayer, and the last thing needed to tether her fully back into the here and now.She sags against his chest, and he sinks with her back into the blankets.His heart beats a steady rhythm under her ear, and she focuses on its sound.

He cards his fingers through her hair, and her mind begins to grow quiet.“I’m afraid to fall back asleep.”Even as she whispers it, her eyes threaten to drag closed.

He hears and understands her unspoken words as he replies, “Don’t you worry.I’ll be right here, love.I’ve got you.”She shifts, trying to gaze up at him.She feels his voice rumble through his whole body as he adds, “Unless you’d rather I regale you with a tale of wild daring do?”He feels her lips quirk up, just slightly, but the weight that settled on him from her first anguished cry lessens all the same.

“Please.”She keeps her eyes open, in the dark, as long as she can, not wanting to miss a moment of hearing tell of his adventures.It’s not their first time weathering this particular sort of storm, after everything that has happened; but together, they are strong enough to pick up the pieces, rebuild the wreckage, and journey forth into the new dawn.

The rest of the night, she sleeps.The sound of his breath is the sweetest lullaby she’s ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, really, it would be UPSETTING to see the potential love of your life die, even if you knew he would be a-okay. and i don't think we talk about this scene enough.
> 
> also, i am a sucker for comfort after nightmares. it's a problem.


	8. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian muses about his confession.

He still looks sheepish, despite all they’ve been through together, despite all they’ve done. “That wasn’t how I imagined telling you, the first time.”

She looks down at their intertwined fingers, before meeting his gaze. She smiles. “How did you imagine telling me?”

There is that softness in his eyes, even as his lips curl into that devilish grin. “For starters, there would be more romance, more…theatrics.”

Lydia lets out an incredulous laugh. “Being chained by the Devil wasn’t dramatic enough for you?”

He laughs with her, and her heart nearly bursts at the sound of it. “Alright, point taken. Theatrics of a different kind, then. You know, the classics: a walk on the beach in the moonlight, before taking you to the sloop, drinking fancy wine. Rose petals, everywhere.” His face colors. “Telling you, and then spending the rest of the night—ahem—wrapped up in each other.”

She leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before whispering in his ear, “That sounds lovely, Julian. It’s not too late to make that dream a reality, you know. I’m here, you’re here, the feelings are still the same…”

He tucks her closer into his side. “You’re right. Although now I can think of other ways, other…places…to say I love you.”

Her stomach flips at the look in his eyes, even as she refuses to back down. “Is there a Captain’s hat at the sloop?”

He bites his lip, cheeks darkening further. “If there is…?”

She curls her fingers into the hair at his nape. “Why don’t we find out?”

Julian nearly jumps from the seat in his hurry to scoop her up. “Aye aye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to write a quick thing post book XIX, before the new book is released!


End file.
